


Betrayal

by shenko464



Series: Tales of the Silver Lilies and the White Wolf [4]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood and Injury, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Near Death Experiences, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:54:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23062036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shenko464/pseuds/shenko464
Summary: Dijkstra is smarter than he was shown to be in that cutscene in the theater and ambushes the Temerian patriots before Geralt arrives.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Vernon Roche
Series: Tales of the Silver Lilies and the White Wolf [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1628383
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely takes place after “Grief”

Vernon should have seen it coming. 

The evidence of betrayal was there all along – the unusual silence of Dijkstra, the sly glances of the Redanian spy’s lackeys at their presence throughout the establishments the conspirators had visited. 

Why didn’t he see this? Having been the Blue Stripes Commander for four years, he became too familiar with the darkness that lay in men’s hearts, the depravity driven by a desire to survive, to profit from other people’s misfortunes. He knew all the signs of impending double-crossing and he would be the one to outwit his enemies, both common bandit and Scioa’tel. 

“I will not allow this, you two-faced whoreson,” Vernon’s famous last words held all the spite, the contempt the Temerian held for his former colleague.

Dijkstra’s thin lips turned into a smirk that looked far too small for his large face and the small beady black eyes had that hard glint so commonly found in murderers. 

“Kill them all and quickly. I’d rather not face the witcher if he finds out about this. Damn prick broke my leg once.”

_He’ll do more than break your leg this time._

The Temerian patriots were lucky that Dijkstra, in his haste to be rid of his enemies, didn’t plan the surprise assault well. Only a handful of archers skirted the perimeter but the main challenge was getting through the endless hordes of bandits, all heavily armored but poorly equipped, just to get to the archers.

Dijkstra did not want to waste his orens on properly equipping his lackeys. 

The sheer numbers of his lackeys were what would undo Vernon and his friends. 

As the man barely dodged an arrow that struck past him, Vernon knew it was just a matter of time before he’d make a mistake, before Ves or Thaler would fail to dodge a fatal blow.

A familiar cry rent through the air and Vernon felt his heart shatter when he recognized it as Ves’.

He couldn’t see her past the seemingly endless hordes of men and, while he successfully took down the men who surrounded him, a bolt through his thigh forced him down to the ground.  


He was used to agony but it still shocked his body until adrenaline, the last wisps of it, burst through him. A parry here, a thrust into a thick torso where armor was thinnest, a riposte with his dirk before slicing a throat. 

Another shock of pain sent him crashing into a wall and he let out a curse. The bolt had a single arrowhead, crudely made, but it ate at the muscle that controlled his arm movements. It numbed his arm and he let go of the sword he held; the clattering of it sounded so final.

“Die, Temerian scum,” one of the bandits said and the cruel smile told Vernon that the man enjoyed his job.

He could tell by the eagerness in the bandit brandishing his sword above, taking far too long, that the bandit wanted to relish at this moment, of seeing the famous Commander of Temeria’s Special Forces wounded and helpless to prevent a killing blow. 

“Fuck you,” Vernon hissed and he pushed through the shroud of agony to grab his other dagger, a longer one. Somehow, he managed to sidestep the downward strike, allowing it to pierce the meaty part of his shoulder instead of going into his head. The dodge allowed the Temerian to use the momentum to thrust his dagger into the man’s neck and killing him instantly.

The motion used the last of Vernon’s strength. His knees buckled and he slid down the brick wall. Breathing was a challenge and he couldn’t use his right arm anymore, thanks to the arrow still inside his shoulder.

Sounds of scuffle drew his attention and pained eyes espied more men approaching him, with Dijkstra leading them. Vernon couldn’t hear Ves or Thaler. No one was coming to his rescue and laughter bubbled from his mouth, the action surprising the fat spy. 

“As expected from the Blue Stripes Commander. The last one standing and laughing at his demise.”

Dijkstra leaned down in front of him, his clothes clean for having committed such a heinous crime. The golden vest mirrored the ugly persona of the Redanian spy, who got greedy with power and influence after King Radovid’s assassination. 

“I must say, I do this regretfully, Roche. The North can only be free in my stead. It won’t ever bow to Nilfgaardian rule. You of all people should understand that.”

If Dijkstra expected a different answer, his expectation was cleverly hidden in guarded black eyes and a blank expression. 

Sweat crept into Vernon’s eyes, giving the traitor a watery appearance. His men also appeared misty, as if Vernon maybe was just dreaming and he would wake up on his hard mattress in the cave.

“It was a pleasure knowing you, Roche and the North thanks you for your services,” Dijkstra said to him, regret coloring his tone. The spy stood up and turned to one of the soldiers near him. “Kill him and get rid of the bodies before the witcher gets here.”

One of the men saluted and then suddenly jerked forward only to fall unscrupulously, revealing a white-haired man standing where the dead bandit once stood. 

Vernon surely must be going mad. Only in fairytales would a hero come to the rescue in time.

He tried to get words out, some smartass comment of ‘about time’ but he couldn’t even string his thoughts together. Instead, he felt so tired, more so than before and it was to the cacophony of snarls and men screaming that Vernon’s consciousness slowly faded out into nothingness.  
\---  
“Geralt! What are you doing here?” Dandelion exclaimed and the bard hugged the witcher, not minding the blood on his friend’s uniform.

“Zoltan, bring a stout drink for my friend.”

“Not going to be here long. Just water please,” Geralt made for his stash that somehow was still out in the open, free for the taking. However, Dandelion asked Triss to cast a spell over the inventory, to allow only for Geralt to use the chest and anyone whom Geralt trusts to use as well if for only emergencies. 

“Geralt!” Zoltan’s gruff voice drew the witcher’s attention from the chest interior to the dwarf and Geralt smiled at the sight of his friend. 

The dwarf’s hair was freshly styled in a mohawk and the sides were shaved down in military-style. Zoltan’s red beard, neatly trimmed, made his face look experienced and the crow’s feet at the brown eyes only served to make him look older than he was.

Zoltan pulled Geralt into a firm hug, the muscled arms easily wrapping around his torso.  


“What kind of trouble did ya get into now?” The dwarf’s stubby fingers pointed at his bloody armor, which needed to get a good clean and wiped down. 

“Got into trouble with bandits. I’ll tell you the details later once I meet up with Vernon and the others.”

“Oh? That’s a coincidence. Hmm.” Dandelion’s brows knitted in a frown and Zoltan gave the bard a concerned look. 

Geralt sighed and he retrieved more of his bombs. Dragon’s Dream and Northern Wind should suffice for any future contracts. 

“What is it, Dandelion?” Geralt asked and he tensed, waiting for an answer he wasn’t going to like. 

“Well, a whole bunch of lads were in here, armored to the teeth and getting all rowdy.” 

Dandelion continued and he gestured for Geralt to follow him outside, nearby the back of the tavern, where some privacy could be afforded to them. 

“You might want to forget that drink of yours, Geralt,” Dandelion’s voice was tense and the bard’s eyes flickered to the road that led to the abandoned theatre. 

“What’s going on, Dandelion? Zoltan?”

The dwarf had grabbed his sword and strapped it to his shoulder buckle. He also shoved a handful of black globes into a handbag that hung off the buckle.

“Dijkstra’s men came by for a swift drink before heading out. One of them was saying that the Temerian bastards were going to get what was coming to them.”

Quiet fury drowned out the latter part of Dandelion’s sentence and Geralt clenched his teeth tightly, his canines cutting into his lip until beads of crimson rose and dripped down his chin.

“Dandelion, contact Yennefer and get a healer or two.” Geralt was already running down that same road that Dandelion had stared at earlier. However, his request did not fall on deaf ears and Dandelion grabbed at an amulet that he wore underneath his top, muttering a few words in Elder speech.

“Geralt! You’re going to need help,” Zoltan ran after him and the silence of the witcher told the dwarf that Geralt’s immediate thoughts laid elsewhere.

_Fuck….Vernon, hold on!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt and Zoltan made it to the theater. The question is did they make it in time?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter but I promise that the next ones will be slightly longer. :D

#### Madame Irina’s Theater 

Shouts and sounds of metal clashing with metal and flesh reached the pair well before even entering the abandoned theater. 

As they pushed through the main doorway, the smell of blood and metal flooded Geralt’s senses. Fury overcame him at the sight of mere bandits attacking his lover and his friends. Not even waiting for an explanation from one of the bandits, the witcher had already drawn his steel sword and thrown a northern wind bomb into the encroaching group of bandits.

Out of the corner of his eye, Thaler and Ves held the high ground, thankfully using their experience in skirmishes like this to their advantage. However, with the way Thaler held his left side and Ves seemed to be slowing in her strikes, it was only just a matter of time before his two friends would fall to a lucky shot or strike. 

Before Geralt could say anything to Zoltan, however, the dwarf’s knife flew into the air, the weapon making a whistling sound as it barely passed Geralt’s cheek, before embedding itself into a bandit’s face. The man didn’t even make a sound as he crumpled at Ves’ feet. 

Ves’ face lit up in relief before turning serious as the blonde woman blocked another blow, her strength seemingly renewed at the sight of Geralt and Zoltan. 

“I’ll cover those two,” Zoltan shouted, his short body deceptively fast as he plunged headfirst into the fray. “Just find that stubborn Commander o’ yers.”

Geralt didn’t need to be told twice about needing to find Vernon. 

A hoarse shout occurred from the wall opposite of the theatre and a very familiar ‘Fuck you’ rang with defiance in the cold air. The bandits were too engrossed in crowding around a familiar form, one that seemed to be bleeding heavily, to notice the two newcomers. It was a mistake that Geralt took advantage of. 

He deliberately left the obese form of the Redanian spy alone as he rushed towards the bandit that was about to deliver a killing blow. A sliver of steel pierced deeply into the man’s neck, where the armor failed to protect, and the bandit let out a sickly gurgle before falling into a useless heap at Geralt’s feet. 

Vernon’s eyes, dazed and cloudy from the pain, most likely due to the bolt embedded in the Temerian’s shoulder, gazed at him before fluttering closed. 

Geralt’s hands clutched tightly at the sword hilt and his body trembled. Dijkstra’s only reaction to his arrival was a narrowing of beady black eyes followed by an order of ‘kill the witcher!’

The only thing that grounded Geralt in his wrath was Vernon’s slow heartbeat. It beat steadily although slowly as the steel sword sliced and dismembered body parts. A head decapitated there, an arm flying into the air followed by streams of hot blood that splattered all over the wall. 

Screams of ‘witcher! And ‘monster’ fell on deaf ears and for once, Geralt relished in being viewed as a monster. These vermin chose to be here and they paid dearly for following the Redanian’s spy order.

The fat spy was the only man left standing; his cronies acted as his shield and fodder for Geralt’s justified violence. 

“I’m not going to beg, Geralt,” Dijkstra stood proudly, a hand holding a small dagger that glistened eerily in the weak light provided by the few oil lamps in the theatre. Dagger’s poisoned. Gotta watch out for it. “This was for the good of the North and the Temerians would have died as heroes until your untimely arrival.”

“Heroes, huh? More like inconvenient scapegoats that you want to do away with.”

“Hmm, true from your perspective,” Dijkstra made a move, but not towards him as expected. The spy forcibly lifted the unconscious man, the motion wrenching an agonized shout as the spy purposely dug his fingers into the shoulder wound.

Vernon muttered something unintelligible before Dijkstra tightened his hold on the Temerian.   
Geralt, for once, was unsure what to do. He knew that the spy had a contingency plan but to use Vernon as a human shield was unthinkable. 

“I know all about your signs so if I even see your fingers twitch, he’s dead. This poison just needs to be touched on human skin to do its work. I made it myself.”

Teeth, stained yellow from tobacco and food, showed themselves in a grim smirk and Geralt could smell the food that Dijkstra had eaten several hours before.

Behind him, the last bandit drew his last breath and Geralt instinctively knew that Zoltan had successfully rescued Thaler and Ves. He just had to let them know, somehow, of his situation. He’ll just stall Dijkstra and use code words that only he and Zoltan knew, in case of situations like this.

“So what’s going to be your plan? Kill Vernon and rule Redania from the shadows like you did before? It should be easier now with Phillipa in your hands. Or maybe she plans to murder you just like how she did Radovid.”

“Perhaps,” Dijkstra slowly moved closer to the entrance, which was only a few steps away from their current position. Vernon’s form sagged against the spy and the added weight only made Dijkstra’s movements slower than the spy intended. However, the knife was dangerously close to Vernon’s throat. All it would take was one slice, no, just a simple press of the oiled steel against skin to kill Vernon. 

Geralt ensured to block Dijkstra’s sight of Ves readying her bow and take aim with a well-placed arrow. Zoltan whispered something, “Push and duck, Geralt.”

He let Dijkstra edge himself to the doorway, to where Vernon could fall into the mud and not strike his head against a hard surface. Then, another whisper, “now!” and Geralt had to risk using force against Vernon. It would break a rib or two. But it was the only way to win this situation. 

Everything happened in slow motion. A hand pushing out, Dijkstra’s knife almost following through its motion but then stilling as the spy’s body jolted in shock. Vernon fell haplessly, the man’s head flung backward like a lifeless doll. Geralt rushed to catch the falling man and held him tightly as Ves’s second bolt thrummed into the air and forced its way into soft flesh and muscle. 

Vernon let out a pained moan at the shock of falling against cold metal and leathers before stilling, his steady breaths a balm to the witcher for it signified that he was still alive and that his ribs were merely cracked, not broken and going into a lung.

“You’ll-argh…you’ll pay for this,” the spy gurgled out. Geralt laid his precious burden down and he strode over to where the spy lay, a bolt in the hand and a second one right in the chest.

He made the hand sign of ‘Axii’ and Dijkstra’s eyes clouded over. 

‘Tell me your contingency plans quickly.”

“Yes…Phillippa…will use Ciri to control Nilfgaard and…cough…”

The spy’s heart was slowing down and Geralt knew that Dijkstra’s time will run out.   
“Press the knife against your cheek.”

And, with a sick satisfaction, Geralt watched the spy do as he was told. The reaction was immediate – the skin boiled and burst like the archespores back in Toussaint. Dijkstra’s curdled screams did nothing to move Geralt and the witcher gave a grim smile at the light going out of those hateful eyes. 

“Vernon!” Ves knelt at her Commander’s side and her eyes widened at the wounds Vernon attained before Geralt’s and Zoltan’s timely arrival. “He’s…”

“He’s still alive but we need to move, now,” Geralt, ever the voice of pragmatism, said in an almost cold tone. However, Zoltan observed the way those amber eyes hardened at Dijkstra’s stupid attempt of escaping and then how the witcher’s hands shook after laying him down just moments after.

“I’ll carry him,” Geralt quickly broke off the main shaft but left the rest in Vernon’s shoulder to plug up the wound and slow the bleeding. “Thaler, Ves, think you can manage to Rosemary and Thyme?”

“Just a graze in my side but I can still bloody walk,” Thaler grumbled and then sighed in relief as Zoltan wrapped an arm around the monocle-wearing spy’s torso.

“I’ll keep watch. Could be that Dijkstra’s hired the entire city to stop us.” Ves nocked another arrow, ready to fire it at a moment’s notice.

“Unlikely. He didn’t want to chance anyone reporting our activities to the King.” Geralt, with a tenderness that belied his ferocity of killing the bandits, gingerly lifted Vernon unto his shoulders, letting the injured shoulder hang slightly off to avoid worsening the wound. 

“C’me on. Let’s hope Dandelion managed to get a hold of Yennefer and maybe Triss. She knows more about healing remedies than Yennefer.”

Zoltan nodded in agreement and the quarter walked away from the den of violence and death. With any luck, someone will come in and cleanse the place of ill will and restart the theater.


End file.
